All He Ever Needs
by mikdiggy13
Summary: Despite the obstacles and regardless of the hurdles, Chuck discovers that there's just one thing he's ever really needed. One person who eclipses all else, and makes everything worthwhile. Collaborative Effort by Wepdiggy and Mikki13.


**A/N: **Welcome to the joint smut efforts of Wepdiggy and Mikki13, where you read at your own risk. For be warned. The fic you have before you may cause brain melting, spontaneous combustion, and embarrassing displays of fondling and inappropriate sounds. Please do not read this fic in public. Please do not read this fic around family. If you ignore these instructions, there's a possibility of unexpected jail time and perhaps even sudden death. You have been warned.

**Disclaimer: **Chuck and Sarah belong to NBC. The chaste, wholesome minds belong to Wepdiggy and Mikki13.

**Side Note: **If you like this tale, be sure to check out **mxpw**'s amazing smut pieces. My particular favorite is "Chuck and Sarah v. Banality". Who knew that a game of tic-tac-toe could be so damn hot?

~*~

"Chuck?" Sarah calls, smoothing her skirt as she glances at the scattered debris littering his new apartment. Packing boxes take up half the space, accompanied by a pile of dirty clothes, a tangle of blankets and sheets thrown over a nearby couch, and a half-eaten pepperoni pizza cluttering the counter. In all the time she's known Chuck, she's never seen him make quite such a mess. In all the time she's known Chuck, she's never seen quite so many of his belongings. A soft smirk spreads across her face when her eyes alight upon a Luke Skywalker figurine, and she quickly plucks it from its resting place on Chuck's dining room table. "Chuck?!" she calls again, fingering the statue's carefully crafted features even as her breath hitches when she thinks about the computer nerd's proximity. "Where are you hiding?"

Unpacking his bedroom, Chuck barely hears Sarah's calls. He's too busy looking around the room that will soon be his, the room inside the apartment that belongs solely to him. Not to Morgan. Not to Awesome. Not even to Ellie. For the first time in as long as he can remember, this apartment is his own. The only problem is, as he rummages through his belongings, scanning the stun gun carefully placed upon his dresser and glancing at the mattress positioned in the center of the room, he realizes that he doesn't want this apartment to belong only to him. He doesn't want to come home to an empty space, to fall asleep every night in an empty bed. What he wants more than anything is to share this place with the person who he hasn't been able to stop thinking about. The person who has, for all intents and purposes, become the pinnacle of his world. The person who he's meeting in less than . . .

_Damn it!_ Glancing at his watch, Chuck's eyes go wide when he realizes that the time has slipped by, and that he's already thirty minutes late for his meeting with Sarah. A meeting that she'd made him promise he wouldn't miss. A meeting she'd reminded him about three times before he left Castle yesterday. A meeting planned so that she could continue training him in the art of seduction.

And as soon as the revelation registers within his mind, he hears her voice emanating from down the hall. In an instant, his heart skips a beat and his muscles tense. Because as much as he wants to see her, as much as he's been looking forward to their training session, he has to admit that he's been dreading it, too. After all, the only thing worse than being in love with a beautiful partner with whom you can't have a relationship with, is being in love with a beautiful partner with whom you can have a relationship with, and who spends her days training you in the "art" of seduction and rubbing in the fact that you'll never get what you want.

Even so, he straightens up and takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the encounter. Preparing himself to walk down the hall and meet his blonde handler. To meet the woman who rests at the center of his thoughts. Striding across the room, he runs a slightly anxious hand through his brown curls, attempting to swallow away the tension that has creeped into his throat. To swallow away the feelings coursing through his gut.

Unfortunately, when he enters the front room, which is comprised of his kitchen/living room/breakfast nook, and sees Sarah holding up a prized _Star Wars_ collectible, he can't help but notice just how stunning she really is, standing there waiting for him. And as he notices her beautiful features and her gorgeous blue eyes, the dread creeping through his chest increases even as the longing pulsing through his veins becomes more prevalent. But more than that, more than noticing her beauty and the deep impact she has on him, he notices her eyes raking his body, evaluating him head to toe. It's almost how she's taught him to size-up a mark, but this seems a little different somehow. There's a look of hunger in her eyes as she watches him. A look of desire. But then he shakes his head and dismisses the notion, attributing it to the way she makes him feel. After all, she's probably just pissed that he was late.

Slightly embarrassed about the faulty notion that she might have been thinking of something other than work, he stumbles over his greeting. "Sorry," he says in a rush, taking a few steps toward the spy. "I, um, I was just getting some things setup. You know, new place and all, and -- listen, I'm sorry I was late. Just let me finish a few things, and we can go." He turns on his heel and begins to walk back to his room, but pauses. "Unless you'd like to help?"

A slight thrill courses through Sarah's chest at the sight of Chuck's flushed face, at the way his lips quirk and his eyes light up when he sees her. And for a moment, she wants nothing more than to cross the room, to close the distance between them. To capitalize on the last two months of seduction training, to let him know that it's been more than just professionally conducted, meaningless lessons. To erase the last few months, to eradicate the last two years, to forget that she's still a spy and he's still an asset, and they can't have anything more than what they already do. They can't be anything more than what they already are. Not when the Ring is still out there. Not when his safety hangs in the balance. Not when his life is in her hands.

So when she takes him in now, when she notices the way his curls frame his tanned, angular face, and the slight bulge of biceps peeking out from underneath the sleeves of his white t-shirt, she forces herself to remain detached. To remain resolute. To ignore the way her pulse increases at the mere sight of him. Instead, she purposely glances around his apartment, the wryness of her smile becoming more pronounced as she returns her gaze to his cinnamon brown eyes. "Wow, Chuck," she replies lightly, placing the figurine on the counter, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you had this planned. What, did Morgan cut out before you finished moving in?"

A mild hue of disappointment wafts across Chuck's face when Sarah pretends like the tension between them doesn't exist, even though he's almost convinced that he imagined it himself. After everything that's happened in the last two months – Sarah's announcement that she was leaving Burbank, his decision to download the Intersect 2.0, Bryce's death and the subsequent distancing between himself and his gorgeous handler – he's beginning to realize that this thing between himself and Sarah was all in his imagination. It was all a mistake, a deception, a con that they had played all too well. So instead of falling into his false hopes, he decides to play along with Sarah's war of words. Because even if there's nothing left between them romantically, and even if there never will be again, he can't help but hope that they can at least be friends. After all, being friends with Sarah is much better than being nothing at all.

"Oh, you know. I'm just being considerate of my friend's disability," he says, the disappointment in his eyes pushed aside by a look of resolve. And when he notices the lack of understanding reflected within Sarah's expression, he continues. "Morgan is allergic to work of any kind." This has the desired effect: Sarah laughs. He always thinks she's most beautiful when she laughs. It's when she's most carefree, and the only time that she doesn't appear to have the weight of the world on her shoulders. And Chuck knows about bearing the brunt of the world's burdens. He's well versed in that field. "Besides, I wouldn't want to rope you into anything you didn't want to do. I know how busy you are. So I can finish up by myself, if you have something more important. I'm kind of used to saving the world, or in this case my apartment all _alone_."

He doesn't mean to let bitterness creep into his voice. He doesn't mean to add the extra emphasis to the word "alone". He really was trying to keep the light, snarky dialogue going, but it's so hard when he has to be around _h__er_. When he's reminded of everything he thought they had. When he's reminded of how wrong he was about how she felt about him. And it's not her fault. He knows that, intellectually, but it's just so damned hard to act like he doesn't still love her when he knows in his heart that he always will, regardless of how she really feels about him. Especially when she looks at him the way she's looking at him now.

Because when Chuck's expression turns downcast, her own expression falters. And when she hears the dejected tone of his voice, her own heart twists. And in that moment, she feels herself whirling backward through time, to a bright morning in Barstow, to a time when things had been clear and potent and real. And even though she knows they can't have that now, and even though the many reasons are clear within her mind, she can't stop a hint of affectionate remorse from entering her gaze, nor can she stop the wistful regret which prickles within her chest. And suddenly, before she really knows what she's doing, she's crossing the room and placing a gentle hand on Chuck's bare arm. "The world can wait for a day," she states softly. "I guess I can help you move." And then, when the intensity of his gaze becomes a little too much, she drops her arm and forces a careful smirk into place. "Unlike Morgan, I'm not afraid of a little hard work," she says.

_The world can wait for a day. If only. _Chuck shakes his head, trying to clear the negative thoughts away. He reminds himself that Sarah is trying, really trying to make this less awkward, and he's not making it easy for her. It's not her fault that he had these gradiose ideals of the two of them one day moving into a place of their own, laughing as they unpacked, sharing a first meal in their new place, cuddling in front of a roaring fire while they watched some cheesy movie. And not for cover, but for real. It's not her fault that she doesn't want those things. It's not her fault that the love of _her_ life was killed protecting Intersect 2.0 -- the very program that is now embedded in the head of a common Nerd Herder. And it's not her fault that now she has to train him to use it, making him a constant reminder of her loss. _You're not the only one that has lost something, Chuck_.

Still, he allows himself to daydream as he watches Sarah move into the kitchen and begin unpacking a box of kitchen supplies. Perhaps this, more than anything, is the reason that he slips when he asks, "Where do you think we should put our new plates?" Immediately, he sees the stunned look on Sarah's face, and even if he didn't notice, it would be evident that she was startled when she drops the coffee mug she was holding. She manages to catch it before it shatters onto the floor, because she's Sarah and her reflexes are stellar regardless of the situation, but he's still sorry that he said what he did. He really didn't want to make this awkward.

Glancing sharply toward the computer nerd, Sarah turns slightly breathless as she registers his words, their subtle, errant meaning so clear within her mind that it causes her eyes to widen as her muscles tighten in surprise. And when the coffee cup falls from her hand, she only just manages to catch it before it shatters upon the floor, her muscles still tense as she gazes at the man standing across the room. "_Our_ plates, Chuck?" she finally queries, arching a brow. "I didn't realize that I was moving in, too."

Chuck blinks in relief when Sarah's quick thinking cuts through the awkward, heady moment. She's always protecting him, even from his own traitorous mouth. But he knows that he's not out of the woods just yet. He needs to think of something to say, something that will keep the conversation light and playful. Something a friend would say to another friend after accidentally admitting to being in love with that friend and wanting to move in with her. But what does one say in that situation? Somehow, he doesn't think it's a situation most people find themselves in very often. In fact, most people probably never find themselves in that situation in their lives. "Guh," he manages, swallowing the giant lump in his throat. But that wasn't even a word. _Say something, Chuck. _"Thank you, Sarah." _F__or not making me feel like an idiot_. "For helping me get things in order, I mean. And you know, for everything, I guess."

But even as he says it, even as he attempts to hide behind his words, Sarah's chest clenches at the look that crosses his face, at the way he's gazing at her in embarrassment and regret. Suddenly, she can't stop a slight, sympathetic grin from sliding across her own face, from lighting up her own eyes. And in that instant, she feels a rush of compassion, of solace for the man standing before her. For the man who has changed her life, changed her world, his gentle, unassuming nature piercing her defensive fortifications in a way that no one else ever has. In a way that no one else has ever even been capable of doing. And along with that compassion, along with that solace, comes a jolt of anger when she realizes that she can never let him know how she really feels. That she can never let him know how amazing his idea sounds, how much she wants exactly what he's just admitted to wanting himself. Because the truth is that she can never open up. She can never let go, she can never give in. Instead, she'll be forced to play this game indefinitely, until this mission finally ends and the CIA finally lets them go.

And she knows: the CIA will never let them go. Together, they're pawns in a witless, never ending war. A war which the Agency will never let them leave.

And with that thought, with the emotions currently roiling through her chest and playing havoc with her mind, something inside Sarah shifts. And suddenly, she's placing the newest unpacked plate onto the counter. Suddenly, she's moving away from the dishes, away from the packing, away from the kitchen, and crossing the room to Chuck, who's currently staring blankly at the dining table while a faint flush colors his face. And suddenly, she's reaching for his hand and staring into his deep brown eyes. "You don't have to thank me, Chuck," she says softly, lacing her fingers into the negative spaces of his hand. "I want to be here. I want to help." _Really,_ _I just want you._

At her touch, Chuck shivers as goose bumps break out onto his skin, the hair on his arms standing up when she begins to brush her thumb against his hand. His palms even start to sweat. And even though he knows that Sarah can feel the sensation, she doesn't seem to think anything of it. Or at least she isn't saying anything about it. In fact, the look in her eyes tells a story beyond her words. She had said that she wanted to be here. But her statement seems to mean so much more, the hidden meaning anything beyond what Chuck ever expected. He wracks his mind for how to respond, how to let her know his thoughts. How _can_ he answer that? Should he make some joke? Try to lighten to mood again? It's always been their move when one of them starts down this path. Dancing around anything real has become a staple in the very confusing and complicated world of _them_. And even though he was convinced only minutes before that "them" was a thing of the past, or more accurately of the never-was, this feels more familiar than he could have ever hoped.

But as he searches for the right words, as he tries to come up with something to say, he suddenly decides that he doesn't want to avoid this any longer. If Sarah is going to say the things she's saying, both verbally and non-verbally, then he's going to say what he actually wants to say. "You know," he begins, forcing back his nervousness. "If you, uh, if you wanted this, well, my stuff." He pauses, trying to collect himself. Then with more confidence than he'd shown before, he continues. "This really is your stuff, too, if you want. You just have to say the word."

Sarah's stomach flutters at the statement, at the underlying implications contained within Chuck's simple, honest suggestion. At the way she thrills with unexpected longing as the ramifications thread through her mind. Biting her lower lip, she forces herself to continue looking into those clear brown eyes, to continue holding his smooth, warm hand. "What are you saying, Chuck?" she asks lightly, all too aware at the way her pulse races at the question. And even though she knows it's not fair, and despite the fact that she can't help but feel a slight rush of guilt, she can't bring herself to fill in the gap. She can't bring herself to supply the meaning herself. Not when it means releasing all the defenses she's hidden behind for so long; not when it means being more honest with herself than she can ever remember being before. So when Chuck's eyes narrow and his forehead creases at her words, she can only tighten her grip in his hand and wait for what he says next.

_Seriously? _Chuck thinks. _Sarah wants me to spell it out? She's going to put all this on me? _He almost feels wronged by the question, by the situation, but then he sees the vulnerable look in her eyes and he registers the way she's gripping his hand. And suddenly, he knows that she isn't asking him to hurt him. She's asking because she needs him to let her know it's okay. To let her know that he really means what he says. Maybe even to let her know that he isn't going to let her fall. "Sarah, I know we still can't be together," he concedes, swallowing visibly. "And I know you loved Bryce. But I still," his throat becomes dry, and he can barely continue speaking. "I still want a life with the girl that I love," he finishes quietly, his gaze brightening as he takes in the look of hopeful fear that wafts across her face.

_The girl that he loves? _The words reverberate through her mind. _Bryce? _As if in a trance, Sarah feels herself shaking her head from side to side. Running her fingertips over the soft skin of his hand. Taking another step forward, even as a small lump forms within her throat. "Chuck, I didn't love Bryce. Well," she amends, her brow furrowing slightly, "At least, not in the way you mean." _Not as a lover. Maybe not even as a friend. Not in the way I love. . . _But she pushes this last thought from her mind, instead focusing on the man standing in her midst. The man looking at her with the clearest, most honest pair of cinnamon brown eyes she's ever seen. The man who has painstakingly, undefinably become the center of her world. "Bryce was my partner, Chuck," she continues, her voice a little stronger. "And it hurt when he died. It still does. But not the way. . ." She pauses here, unsure how much more she wants to say. Unsure how much more she's willing to reveal. She's already so vulnerable, her emotions already so exposed. For a moment, she feels herself pulling back, shutting down. She feels the mask beginning to slide back over her features. The familiar facade behind which she always inevitably takes shelter. But then she remembers the look in his eyes. And she thinks about how tired she is of holding back, of obeying orders, of blindly following the CIA. Of hurting _him_. And before she realizes what she's doing, she finds herself letting go. "But not the way it would hurt if it had been you," she says quietly, her gaze dropping to his left earlobe. "Not the way it would hurt if I lost you, Chuck."

As the statement sounds thick and heady in the air between them, Chuck's breath hitches and he grabs Sarah's other hand, pulling her closer to him and staring deep into her sparkling blue eyes. He needs her to know that what he's about to say, he absolutely means. Gathering his courage, he looks down just for a moment, before meeting her eyes again. "Sarah," he says, running his thumb over the top of her hand, "I would never leave you. You could never lose me. I wouldn't let it happen."

And he absolutely means what he says. As long as there is a breath in his body, he'll always find a way to come back to Sarah. She's absolutely made herself the center of his universe, and even though he still doubts whether she feels the same way, he can't deny the flare of hope racing through his chest. Because she had almost said it. She had almost admitted that he was more to her than just an asset. And sometimes, almost is enough. He leans in closer to her, his lips almost touching hers, and he whispers, "I'll always be here for you."

Sarah's eyes drift from Chuck's gaze to his lips and back again, the last vestiges of her careful, guarded mask wavering upon her face. She leans forward instinctively, minutely, her lips so close to Chuck's warm mouth that she can feel his breath hot against her skin. Swallowing gently, she flexes her hands in his grasp, a million conflicting thoughts fighting for dominance within her mind. _It's okay. We can do this. Just this once. No one has to know. _And: _I want this. I'm so tired of hurting him, of holding back, of _fighting_ this. Of living the con. _And then, at the same time: _I'm his handler. He's my asset. His safety, his protection, his _life_ depends on me_. And finally, buried still further, so deep inside that she barely acknowledges its existence: _If we do this, if we finally let go, if we finally give in, then what happens next? What's to stop me from losing him? What's to stop him from leaving? What's to stop him from getting hurt? From _dying? _He could be next. I could lose him at any time. _

And even though she knows these thoughts are pointless, and that she would do anything, promise anything, _give_ anything to protect him, to keep him safe, she finds herself succumbing to the ease of denial, falling under the burden of panic, and giving into her fears. So when Chuck's thumb begins to brush against her soft, smooth hand, and his lips descend ever closer to her warm, eager mouth, the mask stops wavering and becomes firm and resolute. The longing, the affection, the need quickly flees her eyes, leaving a calm, detached shield in their place. And she drops his hand and clears her throat, taking a step back as she averts her gaze to the table. "We should finish moving," she says quietly, plucking a black string tie from the mahogany surface. "We're going to be at this all night." But even as she says it, even as the words leave her lips and create an invisible wall between them, she feels a jolt of yearning regret pierce her chest and reverberate through her core.

A feeling shared only too keenly by the man standing by her side.

Because when she pulls away at the last second, when she puts up her walls just as she has always done, a look of undiluted pain flickers across Chuck's face and penetrates his eyes. And even though he knows he shouldn't be surprised, even though he knows that he should probably be used to it, it still cuts him deep. Why can't she just trust him? He would never hurt her. Never. If she just gave him a chance, no matter how complicated things may seem, they could make this work. They could make _them_ work. All that he needs is her, and more than anything else, he wants to prove that he's all she needs, too.

So when she begins to move away, a flurry of emotions floods through him. He feels angry that she can just brush this thing between them aside like it doesn't exist. That she can so easily reject him out of hand. He feels sad that she feels like she has to do that. He feels a deep longing, and a sense of need for the closeness she's yet again denied him. And as these feelings course through his frame, as they cause his head to spin with overwhelming need, he feels the sudden and intense desire to convey all of these things to her. To let her know exactly how he feels, exactly what she means to him. The problem is, words fail him for the very first time. He doesn't know how to tell Sarah what it is he wants to say. He doesn't know how to tell her how he really feels.

So when she starts to walk away from him, when she starts to hide behind her fortified walls, he grabs her arm and spins her back around to face him. Her gaze widens as it locks onto his own, her lips part as they stop inches from his mouth, her skin grows warm as his fingers curl around her arm. And even though he knows that she could break the hold he has on her quite easily if she wanted to, for whatever reason she doesn't do so. Staring deeply into her startled blue gaze, he feels an intense hope that his own eyes can convey to her all of the things he wants to say, but doesn't know how to voice.

In that moment, Sarah's entire body tenses, her narrowed eyes flickering quickly over Chuck's hurt, anxious face to the gentle lock he has on her arm, finally settling upon his fervent, tumultuous gaze. A prickle of heat courses through her arm at his touch, at the feel of his rough fingers against her bare skin. And even though every sense, every conviction, every _instinct_ is telling her to retract, to pull back, to twist her arm out of his impassioned grip, she finds that she cannot. She cannot retreat, she cannot even move. Instead, she finds herself falling into his touch, falling into his gaze, falling into the piercing look reflected within the turbulent depths of his eyes. Her throat constricts under the intensity of his stare, under the weight of emotion that's being unleashed upon her. And before she can stop herself, before she even realizes what she's going to do, her free hand is rising and cupping his stubbled cheek. "Chuck," she murmurs, stroking his face with her thumb. Instinctively, she steps closer to him, so close that she can once again feel his breath hot against her face. "We shouldn't do this," she says weakly. But even having said it, her fingers continue to caress his face and she takes another step closer to his slightly trembling frame.

Chuck has to admit that Sarah's right. They really shouldn't be venturing down this path. Nothing good can come of them acting on their feelings. And even though he knows that she's speaking from the professional sense, it's the personal ramifications that concern him. If he does what he wants to do, if he takes this further, there's little doubt that someone will get hurt. Either he'll get hurt when Sarah decides to pull away again, or she'll get hurt when she realizes that he's not enough for her, or they'll both get hurt when this thing ends. But he's been fighting these fears, these feelings for so long now, and he's just tired of it. He's tired of fighting, he's tired of giving up. He's tired of never getting a chance to show her how he really feels.

So when he registers how close she is, and he feels her soft, warm hand upon his face, he doesn't give into the impulse to pull away before she can. He doesn't give into his apprehension, he doesn't give into his fear. He only gives into the moment, into the feelings pulsing through his chest. Pulling her even closer, he slides his fingers into her smooth golden tresses, and he kisses her. Hard.

He's not sure how long it lasts. He's not sure how long he brushes his lips against her mouth. It's only when he finally registers what's happening, what he's doing, that the fear overcomes him and he pulls away. "I'm sorry," he says, an embarrassed blush creeping onto his face. "I shouldn't have done that."

But even as he says the words, even as he murmurs the apology, every hidden feeling, every restrained need, every confined desire rushes to the surface and straight into Sarah's chest, her shimmery blue eyes pooling with a multitude of unrestrained emotions and uninhibited desires. She barely hears Chuck's apology, she barely notices the blush coloring his cheeks or the uncertainty which clouds his heated gaze. She's too wrapped up in the moment, she's too lost in his touch. She's too overwhelmed by the sensations racing through her body. Her breath emerging in short gasps, her mouth aching deliciously from the momentary contact, she licks her lips and clasps the back of his head, threading her fingers through his curls even as the black string tie dangles precariously from her grasp. And when she pulls him to her for another urgent, ardent kiss, their mouths colliding in an exquisite rush of affection, longing and need, a single phrase echoes through her mind: _Finally__._

As Sarah deepens the kiss by running her tongue along his lower lip, Chuck's embarrassment is quickly forgotten. Instead, he acquiesces to her demands, opening his mouth underneath her advances. And as his lips duel with hers, and his tongue dances deliciously with her own, he wraps her in a firm embrace, almost as if he can pull her into him. Tasting every inch of her supple mouth, he revels in the feeling of her fingers as they comb through his hair, sending impulses of pleasure rocketing through the nerve endings of his scalp. Luscious whimpers sound from the back of her throat, causing him to forget everything else and simply surrender to her kisses.

When they finally pull back, when they finally break the kiss, Chuck rests his forehead against Sarah's own and shuts his eyes as if in a daze, a smile spreading across his face. And while his eyes are still closed, he knows Sarah is smiling too; he can almost feel the warmth radiating from her grin. Disentangling his fingers from her blonde locks, Chuck reaches up to grab her hands. He needs something to ground him in this blissful moment, and Sarah's touch has always done the trick. And when he takes her small, soft hands in his much larger ones, he notices that she's still holding the tie. A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he pulls back slightly and looks at her with a lopsided grin. "What were you planning on doing with that tie, Agent Walker?" he asks.

Blinking in surprise, Sarah's eyes flicker to the tie forgotten in her hand, a soft laugh bubbling up from deep within her throat when she notices the scrap of material. "I don't know, Chuck," she says, smirking coyly as she fingers his soft curls, "What did you have in mind?"

"I um, I want," Chuck swallows nervously. _Seriously Chuck, you're going to freeze up now? _He bites back his nerves and puts on his best "Carmichael" face. Well, he puts on an air of as much confidence as he can muster at the moment. He's pretty sure it fools no one, but it's the best he can do. "I might have a place for it. Let me hold it real quick," he says, a shaky smirk lighting up his face.

"Why, Chuck?" she teases, a rush of electricity coursing up her spine as she studies the man pressed tightly against her heated body. As she studies the man who's gazing at her with hesitant confidence, a faint pink blush coloring his cheeks. The man whose heart is beating heavily against her chest, whose warm, strong hands are kneading her soft skin, whose lips are still inches from her own. The man who still doesn't seem to understand just how much she wants him, just how much she needs him, even despite the way she's touching him now. And even though she can still taste the fear at the back of her throat, and even though she knows there are a million reasons they should put a stop to this, she's determined to do everything she can to show him just how much she cares. Moving her lips to his ear, she whispers, "What are you going to do with it?"

"Well, you know," Chuck says. The fact is, he doesn't know. What is there to know? Is Sarah really taking things _there_? Does she even realize what she's doing to him? Maybe this is all a part of his training, he reasons. But even that doesn't make sense, when he thinks about it. Unless it was a final exam. But no, Sarah wouldn't do that to him, would she? Dammit, he's so confused, but even through his confusion, there is one thing that is statically clear: he wants this. And even if it isn't real, and even if Sarah is just testing him, maybe it's worth the risk to try to find out. Chuck meets her gaze, and now, he's dropped his nervous behavior. He feels a rush of confidence, and he's not sure if it's him or the new Intersect that causes it, but he now knows his next move. "I just thought I'd put it away." He pauses, running a hand softly down her arm. "I wouldn't want things to get. Too. Messy," he breathes, as seductively as he can.

"Wouldn't want that," she murmurs, shivering at the way he's running his fingers along her skin. At the way faint trails of fiery heat are forming in every spot that he happens to touch. In every surface that he happens to feel. Her pulse is increasing, her lips are tingling, her head is spinning. God, even her knees are starting to feel weak. And while her muscles still knot when she realizes where this is going, when she considers the collision course that they're almost certainly headed for, she can't bring herself to pull away. She can't bring herself to stop. Really, she can't even bring herself to care. Brushing a soft kiss underneath Chuck's earlobe, she places the tie in his hand. "Is this what you wanted?" she asks, her breath caressing his ear. Even as she voices the question, she knows there's so much more she's asking. She knows there's so much more she's saying. But somehow, she can't articulate any further than she already has.

Chuck swallows nervously. She keeps putting it back on him. And while he wants to make a move, while he wants to advance this more than anything in the world, he doesn't know if he can take another of her rejections. Still, like Charlie Brown trying to kick that damn football, he takes the string tie from her, if a bit hesitantly. And as the material hangs from his grasp, he moves his other hand to the back of her head and pulls her to him for another gentle kiss. With her attention drawn to his lips, to his kiss, he begins to secure one of her hands with the tie, and only then does she seem to notice what he's doing.

An amused smile spreads across Sarah's face as the smooth cotton of the string tie comes into contact with her wrist. "Wow, Chuck," she whispers, leaning back to gaze deeply into his eyes. "You've picked up some moves from our training sessions." _And if I'm not careful, I'm going to find myself losing complete control._

"You're a great teacher," he says, his smile turning mischievous as he moves his lips to her ear. "And I'm a quick learner...when the material is this interesting." He whispers this last into her hair, drawing yet another small shudder from his CIA handler. From the woman that he loves. It never fails to amaze him that he can have this impact, or any impact for that matter, on a woman like Sarah Walker. But despite his disbelief, he's not about to let this opportunity pass him by. Not again. He's going to kiss her, and hold her and touch her at every chance she gives him.

"Mmm," Sarah murmurs, caressing the back of his neck with her fingertips. "I'm more than willing to teach you some more moves, Chuck." Her grin slips into a small smirk and she winks at him, allowing a faint trace of emotion to radiate from deep within her eyes. God, she's wanted this for so long. She's wanted him for so long. Licking her lips, she slowly closes the distance, brushing lightly, sensuously against his soft mouth. And in the process, the string tie falls from Chuck's grasp and lands on the floor.

Smiling against her lips, Chuck pulls back so that Sarah can see the coming joke in his eyes (she's always so good at reading him). "Should I take notes? Or will this be an oral exam?" he whispers, as he brushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear, just like she taught him. God, he hopes this goes further.

Laughing softly at his joke as a thrill of longing courses through her chest, Sarah turns her head to move her lips against his own ear. "That all depends, Chuck," she breathes, "On how quick a learner you really are."

Chuck's face is an expression of mock seriousness. He turns to look Sarah directly in the eye, their noses touching. "I may require continued instruction. I keep getting," he pauses, kissing her again, "Distracted."

"Hmm," she purrs, leaning in to suck hungrily upon his lower lip. "Sometimes distractions can be a good thing." And before he can say another word, she captures his lips in a searing kiss, her tongue darting out to taste his succulent mouth.

Chuck's a little surprised with how quick she's moved things along, but he knows he shouldn't be. When Sarah wants something, she'll usually take it. He runs his hand softly over her face, through her hair, finally down her back, lifting her onto the table with both hands, holding her tightly against his body as he continues to kiss her back.

His kisses have an intoxicating impact on Sarah, causing her breath to emerge in ragged gasps and her heart to beat a discordant rhythm within her chest. The way Chuck's touching her, the trails of heat his fingers are leaving upon her skin, cause a rush of pleasure to course through her slender frame. "Chuck," she murmurs into his mouth, her own hands traveling along his soft, slightly muscular arms.

The sound of his name upon her lips causes Chuck's heart to skip a beat as another smile spreads across his face. This is all he's ever wanted. Not just the physical stuff, but Sarah letting him in . . . allowing herself to belong to him, even as he's belonged to her since the first time he laid eyes on her. And when he feels her hands traversing his arms, and threading through his hair, his senses nearly catch fire. Every nerve in his body is exploding with the impulses only Sarah can make him have. It's an incredible mixture of arousal and emotion that threatens to overwhelm him. He doesn't know if he wants to call her name, or cry. So he cries her name.

When her name emanates from his lips, when it sounds within the open recesses of the largely unfurnished apartment, Sarah's breath catches in her throat, and she's suddenly unable to stop the unguarded emotion from flooding her eyes. Her pulse racing through her veins, she swallows gently as she leans in to capture his mouth once more. And as her tongue darts into his warm, moist depths, as it traces his cheeks and the rooftop of his mouth before finally tangling tortuously with his own, as she pushes her fingers underneath his shirt and begins to knead his smooth back, she realizes just how far gone she really is. Hooking her legs around his hips, she gives into his touch just as she's always wanted to give into the emotions coursing through her chest.

When Sarah wraps her legs around him, Chuck realizes that he's never felt more at "home" than he does in this moment. Everything about Sarah . . . her touch, her smell, her taste is now, and will forever be the center of his universe. Her nimble fingers lightly massaging and pressing into the muscles of his back feel so damn good, and his eyes flutter open briefly. When they do, when he takes in the look upon her face, he's rewarded with a glimpse of all of the emotion radiating from her eyes . . . all of the longing, and need, and maybe another "L" word that he'll avoid for now, but that causes another rush of hope to race through his frame.

But before he can really reflect on his thoughts, before he can really fall into his hopes, she shuts her eyes again and he feels her plunge her tongue back into his mouth. Almost immediately, things heat up once more. The duel of their tongues is furious, and he can't help but think that there's no loser in this battle. And now that her legs are securing her to his body, he allows one of his hands to move down them, caressing her thigh.

A thrill of pleasure races up Sarah's thigh and directly into her groin as Chuck's fingers knead her soft, heated skin. Tightening her legs around his waist, she pushes herself closer to his solid frame, her heated sex suddenly coming into contact with his concealed, yet rapidly hardening cock. A breathless whimper escapes her lips as the pleasure within her groin grows more pronounced at the delicious sensation. Slipping Chuck's shirt from his slick torso, she breaks contact with his mouth for only a minute, her eyes quickly locking onto his own. What she sees there, what she finds reflected within his depths causes the emotion within her own eyes to intensify. For a moment, she finds herself unmasked, unguarded, and completely vulnerable. And while the feeling causes her stomach to knot as cold fingers of fear wind their way down her spine, she remains firmly fixed within his arms. Because no matter how difficult it might be, and no matter how hard they might have to work, there's no way she can stop this now. There's no way she can hide from the emotions which are finally surfacing, which have finally been unleashed. So when he leans forward and brushes his mouth against her succulent lips, and when his hands begin to explore her body once more, she allows herself to let go. She allows herself to give in. And she allows herself to stop worrying, to stop fearing, and to simply show him how much she cares.

Chuck can't help but notice the irony the moment poses. His shirt is off, and although he can feel the heat emanating from between Sarah's legs, rubbing deliciously against his groin, she's still fully clothed. And yet, when she looks into his eyes, and she allows him to see what she truly feels, he can't help but think she appears to feel much more naked, much more exposed than he is. He tries to soothe her fears, allowing his own emotions to shine brightly from his eyes, allowing her to see that he feels exactly the same way. And eventually, the fear she'd radiated before seems to dissipate, the panic which had wafted across her face seems to disappear, and she melts back into his embrace.

Smiling in relief, in affection, he pulls up at the corner of her shirt, and Sarah takes the hint and pulls it over her head. Immediately, a new rush of electricity courses up his spine. The feel of her slick skin rubbing against his slick skin is beyond anything he's ever felt before. And when she snakes her arm behind her back to pop the clasp on her bra, Chuck's breath is completely taken. "You're so beautiful," he whispers.

A pink tinge colors Sarah's cheeks as Chuck's enthusiastic, affectionate eyes caress her tender breasts. And in that moment, as she sits exposed before him and she feels his body warm against her own, she realizes that she's never felt more safe. She's never felt more protected. She's never felt more desired. "Touch me, Chuck," she whispers, angling her body so that her breasts are closer to his hand. "It's okay."

Chuck swallows harshly. This is where he always dreamed this was going. Where he always feared it was going. This is Sarah, and he can't afford to not be perfect for her. Hesitantly, he moves his hand up her torso, nearly shaking with anticipation. He kisses her again, once on the lips, then her jaw, down her neck, and he's relieved that she can't see the worry in his eyes. This is everything he wants . . . _she's_ everything he wants, and he only hopes he's good enough. Finally, his fingers reach home, and he touches her bare breast. He hears, and feels Sarah inhale sharply when his fingers begin to trace a path around her hard nipple. His mouth has continued its descent, and soon joins his hand on her breast. He feels and hears her moan when he sucks her nipple ever so gently into his mouth.

Sarah's hands come to rest on the table behind her, and she leans backward onto her palms, thrusting her breasts toward Chuck's gentle, passionate touch. The feel of his nimble fingers, the sensation of his heated tongue, the way he holds her as he earnestly explores her body – all of it is intoxicating, exhilarating. Soft blissful whimpers sound from the back of her throat as her shoulders rise and fall in a discordant rhythm, the feel of Chuck's touch the only thing that really registers within her mind. And as Chuck relishes the sounds emanating from her mouth, his insecurity leaves him little by little. With every ragged breath, with every whimper he hears from Sarah, he's more sure that what he's doing is right. That he's making her feel at least a little like he feels. So he continues to eagerly but gently tease, and caress, and worship her perfect breasts with his tongue and his fingers, reveling in the feel of her underneath his mouth.

Sarah's mind goes blissfully blank as Chuck continues to caress her tender nipples, as he continues to tease her sensitive breasts. And as prickles of pleasure trickle down her spine, she instinctively raises her right hand and brings it to the front of his jeans, cupping his hardened shaft through the rough material. Fondling his firm length, her fingers squeeze him in time to the soft, warm flicks of his tongue. And when a low moan escapes his lips, Chuck stops for just a moment, pulling back so that he can look her in the eyes. Pulling back so that he can show her what he wants.

He knows she can see what he's feeling. The longing, the need for more. And he knows she can see his silent plea. _Please? _He isn't sure if he actually voiced it or not. He's so full of emotion that he's not even sure he's capable of speaking. Even so, and despite the daze into which Sarah has fallen, she somehow seems to know exactly what he means without him even having to say a word.

Gazing into Chuck's gleaming eyes, Sarah's heart skips a beat as she breathes in the emotion so apparent within his brown depths. Slowly lifting her other hand off the table, she gradually brings her fingertip in contact with his smooth, pink mouth. Tracing the lines of his flawless lips, she allows herself to fall into his gaze, to register the unspoken words so prevalent within his eyes. And in that moment, she realizes that this is no longer a game. This is no longer a night of harmless unpacking, or pleasant talking, or even teasing banter. In the space of a quiet evening, she and Chuck have crossed the line so quickly that the boundaries have become obscure, the parameters blurred. And as Chuck places gentle kisses along her finger, sending an electrical current racing from the tip of her hand straight up her arm, she realizes that she doesn't want it any other way. Because even though she's refused to admit it until now, and despite the fact that she's not sure where they'll go from here, she's never wanted anyone this badly. She's never needed anyone this much. So when he asks the silent question with his eyes, when it passes between them as if he's speaking it aloud, she knows there's really only one answer.

Leaning forward, she replaces her hand with her lips, brushing them against his heated mouth. "Okay," she whispers. "Yes, Chuck." And as she continues to caress his mouth with her swollen lips, she unbuttons his jeans and reaches for his zipper, slowly pulling down on the piece of metal until she can push his pants down his hips. Kissing a trail down his jaw line to his soft, supple neck, she reaches into his boxers and gently takes him into the palm of her hand.

Chuck's eyes widen with surprise as he feels the new sensation, as Sarah wraps her fingers around his aching cock. The implications of just what is happening are both startling and very much a relief. And as she starts to pump him lightly in her fist, his head tips back, and he basks in the feel of her ardent touch. Reaching his arms around her slender frame, he leans forward to kiss her yet again even as soft groans sound from his throat. Groans which increase in volume and fervor when he feels another new sensation. Glancing down, he notices that Sarah's skirt has ridden up her hips and his cock is brushing against the satin of her panties, even while still enclosed within her firm fist. And as he feels the pressure build within his balls, he realizes that her silky underwear are now wet with her arousal. God, he can smell her excitement, and knowing that she's looking forward to what's happening, and what's going to happen as much as he is thrills him to no end. Still, he needs to know.

"Sarah," he says hoarsely. "We don't have to do this . . . if you don't want to."

Sarah's hand stills for a moment, her fingers still wrapped gently around his swollen shaft as she absorbs Chuck's words. She can hear what he's saying, what he's not saying, and the significance sends a rush of compassion racing through her chest. Her lips curl upward into a soft, knowing smile as she extracts her hand, and allows her forehead to fall against his own. "I know," she whispers, gazing into his eyes as she tries to make him understand. As she tries to show him that even though he may not think he's good enough for her, the truth is that he's all she's ever wanted. He's all she's ever needed. Even if she's just now admitting it to herself.

"But I want this, Chuck," she continues. "I want _you_." _I've wanted you for the past __two__ years. _For a moment, her mind drifts back to earlier that evening, to his continual insistence that his things were also, somehow, hers. And now, as the many ramifications of their tryst become clear within her mind, she understands what that really means. And she knows that she wants it, too.

Pushing her lips against his mouth once more, she moves forward on the table until she can lock her ankles around his back. And then she tries to show him with actions what her words may or may not have truly expressed. Rubbing against his groin, a red hot jolt reverberates through her core as his cock brushes against her damp panties, causing her to moan in anticipation and pleasure. Threading her fingers through his hair, she pulls him toward her and sucks on his lower lip, deepening the kiss.

_I want you_. Her words are like water to a man that's been traveling the desert for months. It's exactly what Chuck wants to hear. What he needs to hear. And when she kisses him, so deeply. When her legs wrap around him, and his groin presses against the fabric that's separating him from her heated sex, Chuck knows. This is as important to her as it is to him. He doesn't know why someone like Sarah feels like this about a nerd like him, but he's not in the mood to ask any more questions. He's not in the mood to second guess her any further.

Grabbing her leg gently at the knee, he moves his hand gradually upward, over her smooth, toned thigh, under her skirt, and to the source of her heat. His thumb brushes over her hardened nub, and he begins to make slow circles around it, teasing her, basking in the glow of the pleasure that she's not hiding from him, at all. He looks Sarah in the eyes, and she gives him what he's sure is silent consent as he very delicately pulls aside her panties, and inserts a finger into her velvety folds, even as his thumb continues to massage her clit. And when she closes her eyes and moans, he adds a second finger, thrusting them both in and out of her slowly, provocatively. The reaction he receives is almost enough to make him lose it right there.

Her breath emerging in gasps, Sarah's forehead falls onto Chuck's shoulder, her hands buried in his hair as his fingers slide gently yet sensuously into her slick, hot sex. "God, Chuck," she groans, turning her head so that her lips brush against his ear. "That feels so good." Her tongue darts out to flick against his earlobe even as she begins to thrust her hips toward his hand, willing his fingers to work faster, push deeper, to bring her to the point of ecstasy. Sucking his ear into her mouth, she rides his hand with abandon, moaning softly against his neck.

He plunges his fingers repeatedly into her silky folds, burying them up to the knuckle as he continues to flick his thumb insistently against her clit. And when she finally feels the spark, when her walls clench around his skilled fingers and the feeling of pure pleasure floods her frame, she feels her defensive fortifications start to crumble, her careful defenses begin to falter. And in that moment, in the instant that she feels herself start to let go, she wonders what took her so long to let Chuck in. What took her so long to succumb to the feelings coursing through her veins.

Coming back down from her high, a fleeting sense of emptiness engulfs her when Chuck pulls his fingers from her slick, hot center. Even so, she releases his earlobe and places a gentle kiss on his cheek, knowing there will be more to come. "Wow, Chuck," she drawls, leaning back to grin at the computer nerd. "You really have picked up some moves."

Chuck smiles playfully. "There's more where that came from, Professor Walker," he teases. And then he makes a decision. He wants this night, this union, to be all about _her_. She's made him feel special since he's known her, and he needs her to know that she's special, too. With that in mind, he kisses her again and lays her flat on the table, causing her answering quip to die in her throat as she blinks in surprise at his sudden shift in demeanor. And as his fingers loop around the sides of her panties, and he begins to slowly, tortuously kiss down her neck, sucking briefly at the joint of her collarbone and throat, she hastily succumbs to his touch. And when he continues his steady path down her body, placing a heated kiss between her breasts, and then along her firm, taut belly, and finally upon the hem of her skirt, her breathing turns ragged once more.

Pulling Sarah's panties down little by little, Chuck's lips stop on her lower belly, her panties around her knees. Coaxing her to lift her legs, he slips them off completely before resuming his attack on her body with his sensuous mouth. A mouth that gradually moves lower, that slowly travels down her abdomen until he finally brushes his lips against her outer folds. Sarah gasps in shocked delight, moaning Chuck's name as his tongue flicks across her lips. As his warm breath moves tantalizingly against her inner thighs. As his smooth lips graze her sensitive center. As she slowly loses control when Chuck begins to explore her body anew, his only thought that Sarah Walker is the sweetest taste he's ever known.

Spreading her apart, Chuck runs his tongue along the length of her, tasting every inch as she arches toward his touch and a jolt of pleasurable pain shoots straight through her core. "Chuck," she moans, her shaking fingers finding their way into his hair. "Oh . . . Chuck." Chuck smiles softly as his tongue strokes her clit, as he moves it hard against her folds, as he brushes it against her velvety center. And soon, Sarah's body begins to writhe, and rock, and tremble as his tongue slides along every fold, slipping into every crevice, savoring every inch of her sensitive sex. The pressure builds within her belly, tiny prickles of electric bliss racing quickly through her groin. Chuck's name becomes a mantra upon her lips, the single syllable joining the rhythmic cadence of their movements. And when her pleasure reaches a crescendo, and she spasms underneath his touch, it finally escapes her lips in one delightful scream.

It takes her several moments to catch her breath. When she finally does, she makes up her own mind. For two years, she's fought her growing feelings for Chuck. For two years, she's held him at arm's length. But after everything they've been through, after everything they've shared, and after the way he's made her feel tonight, she wants nothing more than to show him how she really feels. Even if the very idea causes her stomach to clench as the selfsame icy tendrils thread through her muscles, she's going to let Chuck Bartowski know just how much she cares about him. She's going to let him know just how much she wants him in her life. Even if this is the only chance they'll ever have, she's going to let go.

Pinching her lips together as the decision forms within her mind, she slowly lifts her hips and pulls down her skirt. And then she comes to a sitting position, her bright blue eyes locking onto his own cinnamon brown. "C'mere," she says, her voice thick with emotion.

Chuck acquiesces to Sarah's command, and finds his way into her embrace. He holds her tight against him, her face buried in his chest. And although at this point they're both completely undressed; and although Chuck can feel Sarah's smooth skin against his own; and although her thighs, slick with her arousal, are wrapped around his hips, this moment isn't one of lust for Chuck. This moment, when Sarah seems to finally be opening to him, when the emotion and caring are bright within her eyes, when the acceptance is clear upon her face, is more meaningful than anything he's ever experienced. Being with Sarah, being a part of her is almost spiritual in nature.

"Sarah," he breathes reverently, almost like a prayer. And when she lifts her head to look at him again, he sees that she feels it, too. They might not have this very much, or maybe ever again, but what they're sharing with one another is more than most people get to share in a lifetime. And Chuck is grateful for this chance.

He feels her inch her hips ever so subtly closer to him, and he knows what she wants, what she needs. He needs it, too. So very gently, he tips her back slightly, still holding her firm in his strong arms. Shaking with anticipation, he lines the head of his cock up with Sarah's entrance. Then he breathes in deeply before pushing himself delicately inside of her. And once he's seated inside her warm, slick, tight walls, he stills for a moment, determined to enjoy this for as long as he can. In fact, he'd stay like this forever if he could. But before he can give into the thought, before he can lose himself in the moment, he pushes forward, then slides almost out of her before thrusting back in.

His name is lost in the whimpers sounding from Sarah's lips, her legs again wrapping around his back and her ankles again anchoring her to his sleek, solid body. Every nerve ending springs to life, every synapse firing simultaneously as his rock hard cock plunges deep inside her tender folds, the sensation causing her to groan and buck her hips. She's been with other men; she's been in other arms. But as she builds a natural, instinctual rhythm with the man held tightly within her arms, as his slick skin slides tantalizingly against her body and his lips move heatedly together with her own, she realizes that she's never been with a man like this. She's never completely molded into another man's embrace, she's never completely lost herself in another man's touch. She's never cared about anybody like she cares about Chuck. Falling into the cadence of their forbidden dance, her hips move urgently, ardently against his own as the fire starts to course through her groin and her velvet walls begin to tighten around Chuck's rigid shaft.

Relishing the feel of Sarah's inner muscles rippling around his cock, Chuck knows that many men in his position would feel some great rush of egotism at the feeling of bringing the beautiful, strong, smart woman before him to this point yet again. And yet he doesn't feel that at all. What he's done, he's done _for_ Sarah, not to her. Even so, and despite all of his great intentions and the emotional connection that their bond represents, Chuck is still a man. And what they're doing is bringing him great physical pleasure as well.

The pressure starts to mount in his balls, and he instinctively knows that he won't last much longer. It's all he can do to hold out now. And God, how he wants to hold out. To make this last forever. But he's not built that way. And with every thrust of his cock, and every time that Sarah's hips move in accordance with his own, and every plunge he takes into her warm depths, and every moan or groan or gasp he hears from her, he moves infinitely closer to allowing himself to let go. A fact even more apparent when Sarah's silky walls start to tighten around his shaft. Strengthening his arms around her body as her muscles clench around his cock, Chuck grits his teeth, willing himself to hold on just a little longer. Willing himself to go just a little bit more. Pulling almost completely out of her sleek folds, he slams back into her heated center, burying himself as far as he can go. He gives her everything he has, and he can see that she appreciates it from the ragged breaths and gurgled moans she's producing.

The burning ache deep within her center intensifies to an euphoric peak, and Sarah feels herself constricting around Chuck's hardened shaft, the sensation sending a blazing thrill down her arms, into her stomach, up her spine. Instinctively, she moves her lips to his neck, sinking her teeth gently into his damp skin as he brings her ever closer to the brink, causing him to shudder with pleasure. Her body starts to tremble as she pulls Chuck even nearer, pushing him deeper, harder, quicker into her slick, hot core. And when he obliges, quickening his pace, her heart begins to pound, her breathing turns erratic, and she realizes that she's never felt more alive. She's never felt as good as she feels right now, held tightly in Chuck's arms and completely vulnerable to Chuck's touch. He's the most amazing man she's ever known, the only man who she's ever let completely inside. And as her walls begin to convulse, she realizes that it was all worth it. These past two years, the decision to lower her defenses and let him in, the decision to get past her fear, get past her panic, get past her training, it's all been worth it just to get to this moment. Just to feel him moving inside of her, just to feel his pulse beating beneath her mouth, just to hear him cry her name as he nears the edge. And when the feeling of sheer contentment floods her frame like warm liquid flowing through her veins, she collapses into his embrace, her body sated in his arms.

Chuck holds her close as he watches her come, knowing that this is the most amazing thing he's ever seen. Even though he brought her to climax two times previous, those paled in comparison to the sheer look of contentment she has now, as she comes down from her orgasm, and relaxes back into his arms. In that moment, he realizes that he's never been more in love with her. In that moment, he realizes that she's truly become his. And suddenly, all of the heartache of the past two years, all of the rejections, all of the hurdles they've had to cross seem worth it.

Holding her tightly, Chuck continues to pump in and out of her sated body, eliciting small whimpers with every thrust. Then, finally, he lets go, spilling himself deep into Sarah's satiny depths.

When they've each had a moment to catch their breath, Sarah wraps her arms more tightly around Chuck's back, his skin slick and warm underneath her touch. She can feel his heart beat against her chest, strong and rapid and real. The sensation coupled with the feel of him buried deep inside is amazing, intoxicating. She brushes her lips against his reddened shoulder, then lays her head against his chest, the weight of their actions finally settling upon her mind. He's her asset, and she's his handler. And even though he's begun to train, and despite the fact that he's becoming more her equal every day, that doesn't change the dynamics of their complicated relationship. That doesn't make this any less forbidden. It doesn't make it any more acceptable. The problem is, she's beginning to understand that she no longer cares. That she's tired of the CIA, of its orders, of its restraints. She's tired of being forced to hold back her feelings, no matter how complex or taboo they may be. And for the first time in her ten year career, she realizes that she's ready to fight.

So when Chuck finally pulls away, when he finally looks into her gleaming blue eyes, she licks her lips and keeps the emotion present in their tumultuous depths. "Wow," she says, and then realizes that she doesn't really know what else to say. Her feelings run too deep, her emotion is too strong. It's not something she's used to experiencing, and it causes her throat to turn slightly dry. Finally, she breaks eye contact with Chuck, and a wry smile spreads across her face as she takes in their surroundings. "I think you might have to buy a new dining table."

"I wouldn't get rid of this table now if it stole money from me," he says with a devilish grin, gazing at her lovingly. She's never looked more beautiful. Her skin is flushed with the exertions of their love, her hair is mussed, and a radiant grin is stretched across her face as her breath tickles his damp skin. He's seen her dressed for formal balls, and government soirees, and many other functions of high society, but she's never looked as perfect as she does in his arms.

And he knows. This wasn't supposed to happen. They shouldn't have gotten themselves into this situation. They shouldn't have done what they did. But Chuck has a hard time regretting their actions. He's done far too much regretting in his life to do it now, after the single greatest act he's ever been a part of. Making love to Sarah was the culmination of everything they've gone through together. Everything they've experienced over the past two years has led them up to this point. And despite what some bureaucrat in a distant office on the other side of the country might say, he'll be damned if he'll let them take this away from him. This is something worth fighting for. This, he and Sarah, is worth anything they can dish out. Even if they lock him away in a bunker, never to see the light of day again, it would be worth it so long as long as he has her.

Smiling gently, he kisses the top of her head and basks in the feel of her heart beat, relishing the sound of her labored breaths. The breaths which let him know that she's here. That she's real. That she's his.

"Let's move this to my bedroom," he suggests, grinning the crooked smile that sends her pulse racing. And before she can respond, before she can even say anything else, he scoops her from the table, causing her to gasp in surprise as he winds his strong arms tighter around her body.

"Why, Mr. Bartowski," Sarah purrs, leaning her head against his shoulder, "Are you planning on getting lucky?"

"I've already gotten lucky, Sarah," Chuck replies, brushing a kiss against her temple. "I've already gotten lucky." And as he walks her back to his room, and places her on his mattress, her gleaming blue eyes gazing affectionately at him the entire time, he realizes the truth of that statement. He realizes the weight of his words. Laying down by her side, he gently wraps her in his embrace and relishes the feel of her in his arms, barely registering the remnants of packing boxes that litter his room. _Yeah_, he thinks just before he drifts off to sleep. _This is all I ever need._


End file.
